


An Accustomed Coffin

by franks_hands



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Ghost Frank Iero, Multi, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franks_hands/pseuds/franks_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man, who Frank had heard giggling before, turned to his wife, a sliver of the side of his face becoming visible to Frank past his black mess of hair. His wife was making a face at him, kind of smiling but also kind of scrunching up her nose and grimacing at him as if he was being foolish.<br/>The man laughed light-heartedly, putting a hand on her back. “Oh come on, Linds. It’ll be good inspiration for my comics.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Accustomed Coffin

The house was in the process of being sold again. Frank always hated this.

He hated the realtors. He hated watching them show visitors around the house, making sure to hit every possible selling point but somehow always failing to mention Frank. He hated the constant flow of people, coming and going, as if his home was some kind of exhibit in a museum. He hated the potential buyers more than anything.

They were snobby and uptight for the most part, a majority of them falling somewhere on the economic ladder just below upper class but just above middle class. A lot of them thought they were hot shit. Frank almost wished he’d died in a less impressive house.

It had been about three months since the last resident had died, but it had been almost half of a year since Frank had actually seen him around the house. Frank was able to gather, however, that Mr. Eckar, 54, had died in a hospital bed miles away from his house. The man’s only daughter was selling the house now, as if it was hers to sell. As if it was anyone other than Frank’s to sell.

Frank couldn’t stand it after the first couple of visits. He’d been through this three times now, but it had been eight years that Mr. Eckar moved in, eight years since the last time Frank was forced to stand around and watch his own house be sold around him. Rather than watching this time, he vowed to stay in the attic, where their voices were muted. Muted, but always audible. Frank could never escape the sounds of those living in his house.

He couldn’t escape someone’s high-pitched giggle, bordering on girly but with a deep undertone that had to come from a man. He couldn’t stop his attention from being grabbed as said man announced, “It’s kind of perfect, actually. I kinda think that makes it better. More intriguing. We’ll have some spooky stories to tell guests.”

There was another laugh, but this one was more familiar and less genuine. It sounded kind of nervous, like it was coming from someone who was trying to perform well at something but was afraid things weren’t going as planned. It came from the realtor. “I suppose that’s true. Not that there really is a ghost here--we all know that’s nonsense. Though, the notion of there being one is a selling point to some. Just not most. Which is why I tend not to mention it unless directly asked.”

Frank’s interest was finally peaked, and he found himself downstairs, observing a scene between a couple and the realtor, who he’d already seen around the house. The couple had their backs to him, so he couldn’t get a good look at their faces.

They were talking about him.

The man, who Frank had heard giggling before, turned to his wife, a sliver of the side of his face becoming visible to Frank past his black mess of hair. His wife was making a face at him, kind of smiling but also kind of scrunching up her nose and grimacing at him as if he was being foolish. Frank could see that her lips were painted a shocking bright red color that stood out against her pale skin and black hair. They both had pale skin and black hair. Frank thought they looked good together, even if he couldn’t see their full faces.

The man laughed light-heartedly, putting a hand on her back. “Oh come on, Linds. It’ll be good inspiration for my comics.”

The woman continued to make that face at the man, but only for a few more seconds before laughing lightly as well, a sort of resigned sound. “Fine, Gerard. You can have your spooky ghost house. But only because I love every inch of it.” She put a hand on his arm, and Frank watched the two share a moment, the realtor watching in on it with a small smile creeping across his face. He wasn’t happy for them, he just knew he was about to make a sale.

The woman turned to face the realtor again, nodding and saying, “I guess we will take it, after all.”

When Gerard and Lindsey moved into Frank’s house, it was the second time Frank sat in the window up in the attic and watched strangers carry their belongings into his home. The first time someone tried to sell the house, it was unsuccessful. Maybe to do with the fact that a twenty-four-year-old drug addict had only died in it of an overdose a month or two prior. Then, it was Mr. Eckar moving his belongings in with the help of his daughter. Frank had heard them talking about a divorce as they carried boxes around the house. Over the years, Frank grew to understand on his own exactly why Mr. Eckar’s ex-wife would have wanted to separate from the sorry old man.

Now, it was Gerard and Lindsey, a lot younger than Mr. Eckar and a lot more pleasant. Frank found himself listening in on their conversations and actually laughing to himself a little. They had a sense of humor.

It wasn’t until nightfall on the first night that Frank actually descended from the attic to watch the two move about the house, still sticking to the shadows as the two prepared for their first sleep in their new house--Frank’s house--just in case one of them could see him.

There had been people in Frank’s house who could see him before. Most young kids were able to see him, and most parents wrote this invisible, long haired man off as part of a child’s wild imagination. Some adults and teenagers could see him, but that had only happened during the break ins over the first year. They mostly went running from the house, probably to spread the news that it was true--there really was a ghost in the big empty house near the top of the hill. Frank mostly heard about the rumors from interested buyers who caught wind of the tales.

Gerard and Lindsey probably wouldn’t be able to see him, but Frank played it safe anyway and kept himself hidden until they were both in bed, fast asleep. Frank only allowed himself a glance at the sleeping couple, Gerard’s arm draped over Lindsey as they slept. He wasn’t going to be one of those creepy ghosts he’d seen portrayed in movies who would watch people sleep for hours on end. He just wanted a good look at their faces.

The two didn’t really look alike per se, but Gerard wore facial features almost as feminine as Lindsey’s, his lips all soft and pouty and his sleeping expression sort of angelic-looking. Lindsey was pretty, and so was Gerard. Frank couldn’t help but think, just for a split second, that Gerard was someone Frank would have tried to get with if he were still living. And, he supposed, if Gerard weren’t married. To a woman.

As Frank sifted gently, silently through the couple’s belongings, he reminded himself that things could have been so much worse. He could have been stuck with a couple that had bratty, obnoxious kids.

It wasn’t that Frank hated kids, it was just that he didn’t want the constant noise, the crying, the mess lying around his house; especially not when it was all thanks to some strangers’ kids.

Frank was glad that it was Gerard and Lindsey who ended up moving into his house, even if he would have preferred that it stay empty.

The first time Gerard saw Frank, he was carrying a box up the stairs, and Frank was standing there, at the top of the case, staring down at him casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Gerard, having looked up from the box he was carrying momentarily to see where he was going, stopped dead in the middle of a step, nearly tripping and falling back down the stairs as his eyes grew wide.

Frank knew in an instant that he had fucked up. It had been nearly two weeks, and the couple had made no sign of spotting Frank, even though he’d been in the room with them more than once. Frank had assumed that by now, they would have noticed if they were capable of seeing him, and that hadn’t happened until just then, on the steps, with Gerard holding a big box.

“Uh.” He muttered, sort of under his breath.

Frank considered vanishing, but then decided not to. Gerard had seen him. There was no going back. He wondered if Gerard would call for his wife or if he’d keep quiet in the fear of looking crazy.

Gerard went with the former. “Linds!” He yelled, never breaking eye contact with Frank. Frank crossed his arms over his chest.

“Linds! Get up here!”

A moment later, Lindsey was back upstairs, having been in the basement doing laundry, huffing from her quick trip up the stairs and down the hall. She looked at Gerard and then up the stairs, but her eyes pushed right through Frank to the wall behind him. Lindsey couldn’t see him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Gerard finally broke eye contact with Frank, and that’s when Frank finally pulled himself back into the attic. He could still hear the two.

“Don’t you see--” There was a pause, “Didn’t you _see_ him?”

A few seconds passed before Lindsey responded, “See who?”

“ _Frank_.” Frank couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard someone actually call him by name. No one bothered to use his name anymore. “The kid that died here.”

 _Kid_. Frank rolled his eyes at Gerard, even though he couldn’t see him anymore. Frank had been twenty-four when he died. He was hardly a _kid_.

Lindsey started to laugh a little, playing into what she thought was Gerard’s joke. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. He was right up there, hanging from a noose.”

Frank could practically hear Gerard frown. His voice was serious. “That’s not how he died, Linds. And I’m serious. He was up there a second ago. I saw him.”

She laughed again, “Right. Sorry.” And then she turned back around to go downstairs, unaware that her husband wasn’t joking.

Frank watched Gerard stand there, in that exact spot, not moving a muscle for a whole minute after his wife left. He was just staring at that spot, just making a face and blinking his eyes as if it would make Frank appear again. After a minute, he looked up and around, as if he could find Frank floating through the walls--which, he might have actually been able to if Frank wasn’t quick. After a look around, Frank could hear Gerard mutter, “I know you’re there. Bastard,” before resuming his trip up the steps. After that, he stopped mentioning it to Lindsey when he saw Frank.

Lindsey was out of the house when Gerard first talks directly to Frank, three weeks after first seeing him. Over the weeks, spotting Frank lounging around the house had become a normal occurrence. By the beginning of the third week, Gerard didn’t even stop to look twice anymore.

They were both in the livingroom when Gerard turned to Frank and said, “I’m Gerard. You’ve probably heard that, though.”

Frank nodded without looking at Gerard, eyes trained on the television, on which Lindsey had left an episode of The Twilight Zone running.

“And you’re Frank?” Gerard seemed to know the answer, but he said it like a question, anyway. Frank nodded again.

There was a lapse in the conversation, if it could even be called that. Gerard didn’t speak again until the episode ended and a new one started. “Do you like The Twilight Zone?” Frank didn’t know if Gerard was asking Frank if he wanted to be watching something else or if he was just trying to make conversation.

Frank spoke to Gerard for the first time, “Yeah.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse and unused, which was expected because he hadn’t spoken out loud in a long time. Frank even surprised himself when he continued, “I used to watch it all the time with…” he glanced over at Gerard, who was staring at him intently, like he was some kind of spectacle. Frank supposed he was. “With my boyfriend.” He finished. Gerard thought about that for a moment and then nodded almost thoughtfully.

“Did you live here with him? Your boyfriend?” He was still staring at Frank, and Frank wondered if he’d be staring this much if Frank was alive.

“Yeah.” Was all Frank said on that subject. He didn’t want to talk about Jack. He wasn’t really up for remembering every detail of his fucked up romance with Jack which had lead right up to his death, right up to Jack fleeing the house after a fight about drugs and a tense dinner. When Frank woke up dead, Jack was gone, and he hadn’t seen him since. It was confusing at first. Frank had only taken a couple of pills before going to sleep that night.

The next question came a few minutes later, interrupting the black and white characters on the screen. “Why can’t Lindsey see you?”

Frank shrugged, looking back at Gerard who was staring at him again, “I don’t know. Despite my being a ghost, I’m not really an expert on all things ghost.” Gerard’s expression turned thoughtful, his head tilting to the side a bit, lips pursing, “I’ve never even met another ghost.”

Gerard’s eyebrows rose at that, “Really? What about the guy that lived here before us, uh--Eckar, I think? He d--” Gerard stopped himself, seeming to think that bringing up death might be rude or something. Frank resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“He died in a hospital. Not here.”

“Oh, right.” Gerard nodded. “So you stay where you die, then?”

Frank shrugged again, “I dunno. Maybe. I guess.”

Another few minutes passed. “Can a lot of people see you?”

“Little kids can, usually. Most people above the age of six can’t. But you’re not the first.” Frank explained, and when Gerard kept quiet, seeming to think about that, he continued, “You are the first though, that’s actually tried to have a normal conversation with me. Without, like, yelling and running. Y’know.”

Gerard’s eyes were kind of wide, almost in awe, “Really?” Frank nodded. “Huh. I mean, it’s not like you look particularly threatening. You’re--” Gerard smiled a little, looking Frank up and down. “You’re kind of short, actually.” Before Frank could be offended, he went off onto another tangent, “And it’s not like you’re see-through or floating around or sticking your hands through walls or something. You kinda just look like a normal guy. If I hadn’t known about the rumors, I would have thought you were some creep that broke into my house. Not that you look like a creep, just--I mean, I saw a picture of you.” He faltered a bit, sounding kind of embarrassed, “When I was researching the house. And then I saw you at the top of the stairs and I just thought, ‘Oh. That’s the boy from the picture. That’s exactly what he looked like’.” Frank had to resist the urge to point out that he wasn’t a _boy_ \--he was twenty-four when he died. He’d been an adult for six whole years. He couldn’t help that he was short and embarrassingly baby-faced.

Gerard went on like that, making conversation with Frank for a good hour or two. Frank was starting to notice that Gerard liked to talk a lot and that he liked to talk with his hands, all expressive and flamboyant. Frank’s earlier thought that he’d have gone for Gerard if the circumstances were different kept running through his head, over and over everytime Gerard did or said something particularly endearing.

Frank was just telling Gerard how he hadn’t really spoken to someone like this in ten years, since he’d died, when Lindsey’s car pulled up into the driveway and then Gerard apologized and got up off of the couch they were both sitting on to help his wife bring in the groceries. Frank receded to the attic as he heard the couple greet each other with a quick kiss on the lips.

Frank never meant to intrude on Gerard or on Lindsey, but he sometimes found that it was a hard thing to avoid. He never slept, he never left the house, he never did much of anything other than roam around and follow Gerard from room to room.

On most days, Gerard didn’t seem to mind. Every once in a while, he’d get in a strange mood and begin giving Frank subtle and sometimes slightly passive aggressive signals to fuck off, but on most days, he was fine having a constant ghostly stalker. All Frank could do when Lindsey was around was sit in the same room as them and observe their conversations, anyway.

There were certain times Frank tried to stay away from Gerard, however. Among those were bathroom breaks, showers, when he and Lindsey were in bed together, and when he was changing clothes.

But sometimes Frank couldn’t help himself and sometimes he found himself leaning against a wall, ready to fall backwards through it at any moment, into the next room, where Lindsey would be. And Gerard would be in front of him, across the room, his back turned toward Frank, whose presence he wasn’t aware of, and he wouldn’t be fully clothed.

Frank knew it was wrong, he knew it was creepy, but he also knew that Gerard was captivating, he knew that he wanted to see every inch of smooth, pale skin that Gerard had to offer. He knew he couldn’t let Gerard see him seeing him, which was why he stayed behind Gerard’s back.

And usually, it was all fine and Gerard didn’t notice and no one found out. Not that Frank did it all the time, but he did it often enough to predict Gerard’s movements. Until one day, when Gerard turned a little to the right and Frank scooted a little to the left in order to stay directly behind Gerard’s back, inadvertently lining himself up to make instant eye contact with Gerard through a mirror.

Gerard’s eyes went wide and then he spun around quick, hands still on his fly, the button halfway through the buttonhole. But before Gerard could verbally call him out, Frank had already fallen back through the wall, to the next room over, where Lindsey was working in her office. She, of course, didn’t notice him and didn’t even know of his existence let alone the fact that he’d just been peeping on her husband.

As Frank stood in that room and tried to slow down his breathing, he could hear Gerard mutter, “Fucking Frank,” and then laugh quietly, “I wish I had ghost powers. See how he likes it when I spy on him.”

There was a small pang of something in Frank’s gut, a feeling that felt like it was spreading through him, and Frank couldn’t be too sure, but he thought that it was a good feeling. Gerard wasn’t angry with him.

The master bedroom was Frank’s favorite room in the house, even though he only allowed himself to be in it when Lindsey wasn’t home or when everyone but him was fast asleep. Sometimes when Lindsey wasn’t home and when Gerard was tired, they’d lay on the bed together and just talk.

They only talked, and Frank was fine with that. He liked Gerard and he liked hearing Gerard talk about his comics, about his art, about growing up in Jersey five years after Frank had. He even didn’t mind when Gerard talked about Lindsey and being married to her. He liked laying there, feeling the mattress dip as Gerard moved next to him, turning his head on a pillow to watch Gerard’s mouth do the weird sideways thing it always did when he talked. He liked being able to pretend sometimes that the bed was half his. He liked being able to replace his memories of Jack with memories of Gerard.

“Y’know, Frank,” Gerard was staring at the ceiling, a little smirk on his lips. Frank’s head was turned sideways on Lindsey’s pillow. “I don’t mind if you’re in the room with me while I change.” It had been months since the little changing incident and Frank had forced himself to steer clear of any situation in which Gerard might be even partially unclothed since then. He didn’t want to be caught again, even if Gerard hadn’t acted like he particularly minded. “It’s fine. I mean, you’re a ghost and you’re my friend. It’s not weird.” Frank didn’t bother to point out that him being a ghost did make it a little weird to begin with. “But, like. You don’t have to be all behind my back. That actually does make it a little creepy. You don’t have to hide.” Gerard turned to look at Frank, smiling lightly. He looked friendly. Frank wanted to kiss him but he also kind of wanted to cry. He didn’t want Gerard to call him his _friend_.

“Sorry. I should’ve given you more privacy.” Frank mumbled, eyes wandering around the room in order to avoid looking back at Gerard.

Gerard rolled his eyes, “I just told you I don’t mind. As long as you’re not all sneaky about it.”

Frank nodded a little, just a small fraction of a movement of his head. After a few seconds of heavy silence, Gerard placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder, “Okay?”

Frank looked back at him, finally, and he thought Gerard was leaning toward him a bit, looking at him with these really intense eyes. Frank whispered a hoarse, “Okay.” And then he did it. He kissed Gerard, leaning forward just a few inches and then looping a hand behind Gerard’s neck to pull him the rest of the way.

At first, Gerard didn’t move a muscle. Frank felt his shoulders tense under his fingers and the hand resting on Frank’s shoulder flailed around for a moment. But after the initial shock of the contact, Gerard’s hand relaxed again and pressed firmer this time into Frank’s shoulders, resting between the blades and pushing Frank’s torso closer to his own. He began to kiss Frank back. It lasted for a few more seconds before Gerard pulled back and laughed a little, nervously, pushing hair back out of his face. He turned over in the bed so that he was on his back again, looking up at the ceiling.

“What… what was that for?” Gerard asked, his tone innocent, as if Frank had only been giving him a friendly peck. Like they were in the first grade. Frank stared at him and didn’t answer. “What…” Gerard started again, after a minute. He looked back to Frank and seemed to search his face. “Why did you do that?”

Frank rolled his eyes. He was annoyed.

Pulling and pushing blankets away from himself, Frank huffed, “I like you, alright?” Once out of the bed, he turned to look down at Gerard, still tangled in messy sheets, his lips still tinted red with Frank’s saliva. He took in a deep breath, “I don’t know how the hell you haven’t noticed before. You’ve been here almost a year now. I don’t know how you haven’t fucking seen how much I--” He cut himself off, not sure exactly what words to use to express his feelings about Gerard, to Gerard.

And Gerard was just sitting there, on the bed, just staring at Frank with an unreadable expression, thinking about it. It was a whole two minutes before he came out and said, “That’s alright.”

“What? You’re married. It’s not--”

“No, it’s alright, Frank. You can’t help it. You’re stuck here. It’s better to not make a big deal out of this, y’know?” Gerard’s voice was calm and soothing. Frank wanted to climb back in bed and curl up next to the man’s side, just listen to his voice some more.

As Frank climbed back under the covers, Gerard whispered, half to himself and half to Frank, “It’s not like Lindsey will ever be hurt by it. She doesn’t know you exist.”

For a long time, Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard meant that Lindsey wouldn’t be hurt by Frank liking Gerard or that Lindsey wouldn’t be hurt by Frank and Gerard having a relationship.

Frank watched Gerard slowly deteriorate for three years.

Gerard had his first drink in six years on his thirtieth birthday. It was in celebration that he’d even made it that far. Frank had learned through little snippets of conversations that Gerard had overcome alcoholism in his early adult life. Frank watched him take that first drink. Gerard didn’t even get drunk that night, but some of the people he’d invited to the house did.

It was the beginning of Gerard’s descent. A wall had been torn down, one that he’d worked to build up for six years. He thought he was safe, now. Immune. He was in a different place, he wasn’t fighting a crippling depression anymore.

He was happily married to the woman of his dreams.

The night of Gerard’s thirtieth birthday, Lindsey drove some of their drunken friends home, leaving Gerard alone in the house. Leaving Gerard alone _with Frank_ in the house.

Gerard wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t even buzzed, but he was on top of the world. _He made it_ \--he kept saying that to Frank after Lindsey left, “I made it, I made it. I was so sure I wouldn’t make it to thirty. I was so sure I’d kill myself before then.” And Frank felt so happy for him. They both felt so happy, so giddy and carefree that when Frank leaned in to kiss Gerard for the second time, fighting a smile, Gerard couldn’t even stop him. He didn’t _want_ to stop him.

They didn’t stop kissing and touching and rolling around on the bed until they could hear Lindsey’s keys turning in the lock and the door opening.

After that, Gerard continued to drink. At first, it was something normal. Lindsey was proud of him--proud that he could drink without drinking too much, that he could control himself. Frank felt proud of him, even if he’d never actually seen Gerard at rock bottom, like all of his friends and family had.

But eventually, Frank did see Gerard at rock bottom. He watched him sink, slowly at first and then quicker and quicker, to a place so deep and dark Frank wasn’t sure he’d ever pull himself out.

Gerard cried sometimes when Lindsey was out of the house or when she was sleeping in another room. He didn’t want Lindsey to see. Frank could always see and he could always hear when Gerard was sobbing, no matter how quiet he tried to be. Sometimes, Frank would go to Gerard and try to talk to him, and sometimes Gerard let him wrap his arms around his waist and whisper in his ear about how things were going to be alright. But sometimes, usually when Gerard had drunk himself into a stupor and his words weren’t coming out clear, he would yell at Frank, tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

By the time Gerard turned thirty-three, he’d begun to refuse to touch Frank, to even look at him or acknowledge his existence, unless he was drunk. Over the course of his thirty-third year, Gerard slept with Frank while sober a total of two times, and all the rest of the times, he was drunk and mumbling about cheating. Halfway through the year, Frank started to push Gerard away when he was drunk and Lindsey wasn’t home and he wanted to get in bed with Frank. Frank didn’t want to fuck Gerard while he was drunk anymore. He wanted Gerard to stop drinking. Lindsey wanted that too.

Gerard wanted that, too; it was all he could think about sometimes. But it was a cycle. He’d wake up in the mid-afternoon sober, and he’d talk with Frank and sob about hating himself and about wanting to be sober. And he’d feel so close to Frank, he’d start to forget that he was married. And then, he’d need a drink. He needed to forget that he’d forgotten, that he’d cheated on his wife in their own house too many times for him to count. He’d wake up sober the next day and it would all happen again.

 

One day, Frank was in the attic when he could hear Lindsey’s breathing from the bathroom downstairs. It sounded irregular, like something was wrong.

When he peered into the bathroom, twelve minutes later, because her breathing hadn’t evened out, he found her leaned over the counter, head in her hands, an at-home pregnancy test lying next to her elbow.

Lindsey didn’t tell Gerard the news that night, despite their long conversation at the dinner table after they had both finished eating, despite Gerard being sober for the first night in over a week. Frank could practically see her freaking out inside. She was pregnant and her husband was getting worse and worse every day. She probably wasn’t sure Gerard would be around by the time her baby would be due.

That night, Frank quietly stole every bottle and can from the fridge that contained any percentage of alcohol, and he poured it all down the sink, leaving the empty containers scattered on the kitchen countertop.

The next morning, Lindsey found the display and went back to the bedroom, where Gerard was still half asleep, and she asked him if he’d poured out all of the alcohol last night after she went to bed. After a moment of hesitation, Gerard said yes, and when Lindsey left the room again, he whispered a quiet, “Thank you, Frank.” and went back to sleep. Frank told him that he wouldn’t be letting another drop of alcohol into his house.

Less than a month after that morning, Frank was sitting in bed with Gerard, and they were talking like they used to do, back before Gerard relapsed.

Gerard confessed to Frank that he’d had a few drinks the night before, having gone out with his friend Ray. It was the first time he’d had a drink since Frank poured it all out in the sink. He told Frank that the second he realized he was drunk, he got scared. He stopped drinking because he was afraid he was going to drink himself to death. He thought about how he wanted to get home, wanted to see the people he cared for. Thought about how he wanted to be there, all of him, to see his child come into the world. Frank gave him a hug and a small kiss on the jaw. They hadn’t kissed in months.

“I’ve learned a few things about addiction in my time.” Frank whispered. “I’ve learned that it’ll kill you.” Gerard was silent, staring at the wall, slowly moving his hands against Frank’s body so that they rested around his waist. “Not always in the way you expect it to, but if you let it go on long enough, it will.”

Gerard sniffed and Frank couldn’t see his face but he wondered if he was crying. “I always forget that you… that… you know. That’s how you died. You overdosed.” Gerard was whispering as well. Lindsey was downstairs and if he talked too loudly, she’d be able to hear him talking to seemingly no one.

Gerard could feel Frank shift against him a little. “Yeah. I always… I mean, I always thought it was possible, that I’d overdose one night and die. I just always thought it would be me that did it, y’know?”

But Gerard turned in Frank’s arms to look at him, confused expression on his face, “What do you mean?”

Frank blinked, talking slowly and quietly, “I always thought it would be my fault. That I’d just overdo it on accident.”

There was a full ten seconds before Gerard spoke again, “You mean that wasn’t… what happened?”

Frank smiled a little sadly, “I thought you said you researched me.”

Gerard frowned, “I did. All the articles said you were a drug user that overdosed.”

At that, Frank frowned. He stared at Gerard for a few seconds as if to gauge if what he said was true. “No… No, it was that prick, Jack. He made me dinner that night. I don’t know what he used. Coke, maybe. Or maybe he grounded some pills up. He put it in my food or drink. Or both.”

There was a shiny layer of water forming over Gerard’s eyes, glistening in the low light of the lamp he’d turned on. “You mean you were--” He cut himself off short, staring at Frank with big watery eyes and then turning over a moment later so that he was on his back, a few inches away from Frank, hands covering his face, “All the articles were wrong.”

Frank’s voice didn’t sound as affected as Gerard’s. “I guess the police never figured it out. Huh. I didn’t realize. Don’t have contact with anything outside of this house.”

Gerard was crying, “Frankie, how could someone do that to you? I don’t understand.”

He rolled over, back into Frank’s embrace, pressing his wet face against Frank’s shirt. “We fought a lot.” Frank told him, “It was usually drug-related. He’d find a few pills missing and he’d get pissed at me or I’d find some money missing because he was short and needed to get his hands on some more drugs.” He paused, “That’s another thing I learned. Your addiction takes over your life.” Gerard sniffed, listening to Frank talk and listening to the vibrations in his throat, where his ear was pressed against the skin. “You think you can keep it separate from everything else, like it can just be something you do when you’re not doing anything else. I thought Jack and I could have a perfectly healthy relationship even though we were both fucked up. Addicts.” Gerard had stopped crying now, but he was still pressed tight to Frank, still gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

“All it took was one fight about who used up the last of his coke from the week before and then he was willing to kill for his precious drugs. And it wasn’t any more his fault than it was mine. We were walking a fine line, playing with fire and expecting not to get burned.”

Gerard sobbed again, just one more time, deep and moving his entire body against Frank, whose body was solid and unmoving, like a stone.

“I hated seeing you like that, G. It reminded me so much of being in that same place. I never want you to be there again.”

Gerard’s voice was muffled by Frank’s body, “I love you, Frankie.”

Frank didn’t have to think before replying, even though it was the first time in the four years they’d known each other that they’d ever said it. “I love you, G.”

“I wish I could’ve been there to help you like you helped me.” They could hear Lindsey coming up from the basement, walking toward the bedroom, and they slowly pulled apart from each other, sharing one small kiss before Frank floated himself up to the attic for the night.

Bandit was born on the five month mark of Gerard’s sobriety. Frank had stayed by the attic window the whole night waiting for the couple to return home with their baby girl, and when she was brought through the front door of the house, Frank was there to see her. As he walked past, Gerard gave Frank a small little smile, one that said _I made that_ , as Lindsey’s back was turned to them.

Frank couldn’t tear his eyes off of the little human. He felt almost like a third parent, like he was equally as responsible for Bandit as Gerard and Lindsey were. He’d watched Lindsey all the way through her pregnancy and he’d watched Gerard take care of her. He wanted to hold Bandit. He wanted to feel how warm and small and soft she was.

He didn’t get the chance until Lindsey had retired to the master bedroom hours later, Gerard promising that he’d take care of Bandit while she slept.

When Lindsey was asleep, Frank let himself into the nursery, which had been converted from a guest room, where Frank used to sleep after getting into fights with Jack. Frank liked the room better this way, with all of the child’s new things. It was as if the room had been sanitized, wiped clean of all of the unhappy memories Frank had associated with it.

Gerard was holding Bandit in his arms when Frank walked in.

“Look at her.” Gerard smiled at Frank through a mirror before turning around slowly, carefully, and taking a step toward Frank so that he could take a good look at the precious little girl.

Frank couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face and he couldn’t stop himself from whispering, softly as if the words were fragile, “Can I… Can I hold her?”

Gerard hesitated, thinking about it for a second, and Frank could understand that. He was a ghost, after all. But after a moment or two of uncertainty, Gerard nodded and gently but securely placed Bandit in Frank’s arms. She made a quiet noise in her sleep and it made Frank smile again, laughing a little and looking at Gerard, just pretending for a moment. Pretending this was his life and not Lindsey’s.

“You can’t see them right now, but she has my eyes.” Gerard whispered, a proud glow around him. Frank grinned at him and then back at Bandit.

“God. She does look like you.”

Gerard looked like he couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop watching Frank and his daughter, couldn’t tear his eyes away. Frank started to feel emotional. Gerard was confused when his expression turned to a sad one.

“I always wanted this, y’know.”

The room was filled with heavy silence and the sound of little Bandit’s steady breathing.

“It was another thing I thought I could keep separate. I wanted to have kids someday--or, like, adopt or something. I always thought that when it was finally time to settle down and have kids, I could just quit. Just stop using. I fooled myself into thinking it would be that simple.”

Gerard’s eyes had turned sad, now, too, and he was staring at Frank’s face, sad eyes cast down at Bandit in his arms. Frank sobbed gently and Gerard moved toward him, putting a hand on the side of his face. “I wish I could’ve been there. I wish I could’ve made a family with you.”

That made Frank look back up at Gerard, finally see his round, sad hazel eyes. He could hear Lindsey sleeping just two doors down and he was standing here with her husband, holding her child, pretending it was all his.

“Yeah, G. I wish it had been like that, too.” Frank turned around so that his back was facing Gerard, and then he stepped back to press their bodies together, just lightly at first.

When Gerard didn’t say a word, didn’t move an inch, Frank whispered, “I know this is your special day and all. But can I just--” but then he decided not to ask, because he didn’t want to give Gerard the chance to say no. He needed this so badly, he was so desperate to feel it. “Just let me have this. Just for a minute.” He leaned his head back so that it was against Gerard’s shoulder, but so that he could still look down and watch Bandit sleeping in his arms.

It took Gerard a few seconds, but when he finally whispered, “Okay. Yeah.” he wrapped his arms around Frank and around his daughter and pulled them both closer to him, holding them there and closing his eyes for a moment, pretending right along with Frank.

 


End file.
